The Hunger Games Peeta's POV
by LexiOdair13xx
Summary: The Hunger Games... In Peeta's Point of View! Find out what Peeta was feeling at the time of the 74th Annual Hunger Games. (Rated Teen for later references, and Hunger Games setting!)
1. The Beginning

**Chapter One; The Beginning.**

I lay in my bed, watching the dust float around my room as the rays of the early morning sun breakthrough the shutters at my window. It falls and settles as if it knows it's the only day it can do so. Today is reaping day. I sit up, thinking of what the day will bring. What will happen? Who will be picked? I don't know. While these things are churning in my head I slip out of bed, put on a simple T-shirt and pants, and head to the kitchen to do my morning chores. I push open the door and walk to the little closet in the back with my aprons. I slip one over my head and start tying the strings when my mother walks in and starts yelling. "Peeta! Where are you?" She asks, can she ever not yell? I doubt it. She never has. "Over here, mom!" "What are you doing in here? You need to be getting ready to go to the square!" "I'm starting on my chores." "Not today, you're not! I'll have your brother do it! Now get out of here and get cleaned up! Now!" I sigh, and do as she says.

The walk back to my room seems to take forever. But when I do finally get there, I go into the bathroom and turn-on the water. My clothes are still clean, so I fold them and put them back in my dresser, or what I call a dresser anyway, and slide into the tub. Just as I start to get comfortable, it hits me. All these questions I don't have answers to. The same ones that come up every year at this time that I can't answer until the reaping is over. It starts giving me a headache, and the more I think all of it, the more fear creeps into me. _Stop it_, I tell myself, _you'll only make it seem worse than it is_. So I try to keep my mind clear of thought, and it works for about fifteen minutes, then it all comes swarming back and I'm forced to get out. I pull out my nicer shirt, pants, and my newly polished shoes, then slick back my blonde hair. I stand in front of the mirror, my reflection staring back at me. Blue eyes full of worry, my whole face is full of worry, basically. I look myself up and down and notice how tense my muscles are. On reaping day, this is normal. I begin to relax a little as the smell of fresh baking bread fills the air. Perfect. I walk into the kitchen to find them waiting for me. My mother, father, and my two brothers. "About time, Peeta." Says Mason. He's eighteen and it's his last year in the reaping, so he's in a fairly good mood today. I sit at the end of the table and we eat in silence. This is the only day we get to eat the fresh bread, which is a good thing, I suppose. Getting reaped, here in District Twelve, basically means your death being chosen out of thousands. But at least I would have a good last meal here at home before I'm killed. If I ever get reaped.

But with all those names in that bowl, and my own being in there only five times, I'd say the odds are against my name being read off that slip of paper, but there is one person I worry about. Katniss Everdeen, the girl I've had a crush on for eleven years, since the first day of school. Her name will be entered twenty times, having to signup for tesserae. Grain and oil in exchange for having your name entered a few more times in the ball. I see her do it often. The thought makes me sad. And the other thought that her and her family might not even have anything to eat this morning, makes my appetite diminish. I finish my meal and wait out the rest of the time in my bedroom. I stare out the window, thinking, for what seems to be hours, but is only half one, before I see people heading for the square. I get up and face the mirror once more, only to see my father behind me in the doorway. He stares at me with a sad expression for a few minutes before he says anything. "Hey, Peeta." He says. "Hey dad." I reply. "You okay?" "Yeah, I just have a lot on my mind right now, that's all." "Peeta, I doubt your name will be chosen. Mason has a greater chance of it than you do, but with all those names, the odds are more against either of your names being called. You'll be fine." He says, but he can't hide the worry in his voice. "It's not just me I'm worried about. Actually, I wasn't worried about myself at all until you mentioned it. It's someone else." "Oh. . . May I ask who?" This takes me by surprise. He usually leaves this kind of stuff alone so he doesn't have to deal with it. So, Naturally, I push his offer away. "No, it's nothing. I better start making my way to the square before the peacekeepers come break down our door." He looks at me, he wants to say more, and he does. "Are you sure?" He asks, clearly not convinced it's nothing. "Yeah, I'm sure." I say flatly. He looks like he wants to say more, but he just sighs and waves me out the door. I walk in an ocean of kids, ages twelve to eighteen, as these are the ages of the kids eligible for the Games. As I enter the square, I'm herded into a roped-off section for sixteen-year-old boys, like myself, and await the ceremony. I hear the town clock strike twice, noting that it's two O'clock.

Mayor Undersee comes up to his podium and gives his speech, the same one every year. About the past of our country, how it used to be called North America, but crumbled and Panem evolved from it's ruins with the big and rich Capitol, and 13 districts supporting it. Then the part about the dark days, how the thirteen districts rebelled against the Capitol in terms of freedom, but twelve were obtained, the thirteenth blown to the moon, you could say. And the result from it was The Hunger Games, a cruel way of the Capitol showing us that we cannot overpower them. So each district has to send one boy and one girl to fight to the death while the rest of us sit and watch. "It's both a time for repentance and a time for thanks." He says. _Yeah, sure its_. I think. As he reads the 'list' of Victors District Twelve has had, I wouldn't really call it a list. There have only ever been two, only one still alive. Haymitch Abernathy. Always drunk, always alone, and almost always never around. He stumbles onto the stage, and tries to hug Effie Trinket, the escort for District Twelve. The mayor tries to get everything back under control, and quickly passes the attention to Effie as soon as he does. She walks - Or should I say skips - up to the podium. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" She gives her speech, and it's time for the name drawing. As like every year, it's "Ladies First!" She goes over to the girls 'ball, and rummages deep into it and pulls out a single slip of paper, and walks back to her spot., and she slowly starts to unfold the paper. _Please don't be her, please don't be her_, I think. But when she reads the name, I get a sort of sting. It's not her, but it might as well be. It's Primrose Everdeen, her twelve year old little sister...

**Author's note: Hey guys! So this is chapter one of an on-going saga. . . **

**And it's the first ****_real _****story I've ever written for here! I just got my Fanfiction account, but I've been writing these 'stories forever! **

**So, please let me know what you think and if I should continue!(:**

** It would mean A LOT if SOMEONE actually read it xD ~Alexis**


	2. Unreal

I just tilt my head and stare at the ground. The crowd starts to talk in hushed tones, but I don't say a single word. A twelve year old. More importantly Katniss' twelve year old sister! How could this happen? Why her? Out all those names... I hear footsteps and turn up my head in time to see her walk past. Pale, Clenched fists, and scared. As she passes, I see that the back of her shirt has fallen out of her skirt, forming something that resembles a duck tail. "Prim!" I turn and see her, working her way through the crowd towards her sister. _Oh, no._ I think, _please don't. _"Prim!" Just as Prim is about to walk up the stage steps, Katniss steps in front of her. _No, _I think, _Katniss ,don't!_ "I Volunteer!" _No! _" I volunteer as tribute!" I just stare at her. Back and forth between her and Prim. _The odds do not want to be in my favor today. _I think, _This can't get any worse! Wait... Or can it? Stop it, Peeta._ I order myself, _Just stop._ I breathe in and hold my breath, hoping it helps with my thoughts. "Lovely!" Exclaims Effie Trinket, "But I do believe there's small matter of introducing the reaping winner, and then asking for volunteers. And if one does come forth, then we, um. . ." She doesn't even know. But it doesn't matter now. "What does it matter?" Says Mayor Undersee, he's looking at Katniss with what looks like a sad expression from here. Could it be, that the mayor actually feels bad for her? "What does it matter?" He says again. "Let her come forward." After he says that, Prim clings onto Katniss and starts screaming. "No, Katniss! No! You can't go!" "Prim, let go!" Katniss says harshly, but even from here I can tell she's trying not to cry. I don't blame her."Let go!" Someone walks up behind them, Gale, I think is his name, and picks up Prim, who is trying so hard to get down. "Up you go, Catnip." He says. I can tell he's trying not to cry, as well. They stare at each other for just a second before Gale takes Prim to their mother, and Katniss mounts the stairs. All of a sudden I get a small felling of jealousy._ She's going to her death! Her sister had to be pried off of her! You shouldn't be feeling jealous! _I scream at myself. Now even I'm on the verge of tears. "Well, bravo!" Trills Effie, clearly excited. "That's the spirit of the Games! What's your name?" Katniss takes moment before answering. "Katniss Everdeen." She says. "I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her stealing all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!" She beams happily, probably excited to finally have little 'fun' in her job. But no one claps, or really moves. Silence. But slowly, one person, then another, soon everyone, including myself, brings the three middle fingers of their left hand to their mouth and holds it out to her. Seen usually only at funerals, because it means goodbye to someone you care about. All of a sudden, Haymitch Abernathy gets up and stumbles over to Katniss and throws an arm over her shoulders. "Look at her! Look at this one!"He yells, Katniss gives a small grunt as he shifts his arm, he must be holding her pretty tight, by the look on her face. "I like her! Lots of. . ."He stands there with a puzzled look on his face, trying to find a word."Spunk!" He beams. "More than you!" He lets go of Katniss and walks toward us, pointing at the cameras as he speaks. "More than you!" Who does he mean? The other districts? The people of the Capitol? Who knows, because before he can continue he walks right off the stage, knocking himself unconscious. As he does this, the cameras follow his every move. Which isn't much now, cause he's pretty much dead to the world. They come and collect him, taking him away on a stretcher, and Effie Trinket still seems excited. Who knows why? "What an exciting day!" Says Effie. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!"She walks over to the boys' name ball with one hand on her head, probably trying to keep that ridiculous thing she calls hair from falling off. She picks the first slip she touches and heads back to the podium. _Please please don't be me! Don't be me! _She opens the slip and reads the name; "Peeta Mellark." _NO! No, no, no! How? WHY?_ I scan the crowd and lock eyes with my father before the cameras can find me. His eyes are wide with alarm, but my mother remains almost emotionless. No surprise, there. I make my way through the field of people and start walking to the stage. The odds have no interest in helping me this year, and will most likely completely abandon me in the arena. As I walk I try to keep my face clean of emotion, but can barley manage. All these new thoughts and old memories come pouring into my mind, but one memory comes numerous times, so I cling to it. I climb the steps and take my place on stage. Effie Trinket asks for volunteers, and immediately finds, and lock eyes with Mason, who just shakes his head rapidly and stares at the ground. No surprise there, either. The mayor comes back and reclaims his spot and begins his long speech, like he does every year after the tributes have been chosen, but I'm not really paying attention. All I can think about is that one memory... That night five years ago, when we were eleven...

It was a rainy day, a good day to be inside baking. If only my mother would stop yelling so much. After I finished decorating the small cake I had been working on for hours, I placed it in the store window, then my mother started yelling at me to take care of the bread that was in the oven. As I started walking to it, she opened the front door and started screaming at someone. I peered over her shoulder and saw her. Katniss was going through our trash for food. She locked eyes with me for a split second as she backed away. Mother closed the door and mumbles something as she walks away, but I don't hear. I watched her make her way through to the back and collapse against the apple tree. _I have to help,_ I thought, _somehow._ And then I got an idea. I went over to the oven to take out the bread, but purposely knocked the two loaves into the rich flames. As I removed them, my mother was yelling at me, and as soon as I stood up, she slapped me. She kept yelling at me as I trudged into the rain and mud to feed them to the pig. "Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature! Why not? No one decent will buy burned bread!" She slammed the door behind her, and I start tearing chunks of the bread off, trying to get the burned parts. Then without looking where they land, I toss them in Katniss' direction and go back inside. I watched her out the window as she looked back and forth between the bread and the house. She quickly snatched up the bread in her jacket, holding onto them for dear life as she ran away; I couldn't help but smile a little, and then went back to work. This and more was traveling through my vision as the mayor approached the end of his speech. I stand there, going through all the times she caught me staring at her in the school hallways, but averting my gaze when she did. As the mayor concluded his speech by telling us to shake hands, I did. And as I did I looked her straight in the eyes, and gave her hand a hopeful squeeze, and turned back to the crowd as the anthem of Panem starts to blare through the speakers. And I stand, hoping my death won't be her fault.

So... Chapter Two? :D I have Chapters 1-3 already written out, so I'll post Chapter 3, now, then contuine writing! :D I'm ALWAYS in favor of Feedback! ~Alexis


	3. Sweetheart

As soon as the anthem ends, we're swarmed with peacekeepers. They guide us into the justice building and put us each in a room with plush chairs, couches, and carpet. I never thought I would ever come in one of these rooms in my lifetime. Well, not as a tribute, anyway. I've come up here a few times to say goodbye to friends, but that's it. I never thought I'd be the one being said goodbye to. And I only get an hour to say my goodbyes. Once I leave here I'm pretty sure I'm never coming back.

The first two people to visit me are my friends Hunter and Vincent, and then another pair of boys, then a few teachers. I heard one of them mumbling on his way out and just caught his last few words; "He was a good student...Going to miss him."

He doesn't think I'm coming back, which is probably true. As the latest pair of my friends leave, I catch a few of their words, too. "Hey, it's Peeta. He won't go down without a good fight.""Yeah, but that won't change anything. We're never going to se him again." My eyes start tearing up after they leave. _No one thinks I stand a chance, _I think,_ and they're most likely right._ After the first few tears trail down my face, my parents walk in. Didn't think they would. I sniffle and stand up, and my father gives me a hug. "Oh, Peeta." He whispers. "I'm so sorry." I just pull back and look at him. "It's not your fault, dad. The odds just aren't in my favor today." I say. He purses his lips and sits next to my mom, who just studies me. "Where are Mason and Orlando?" I ask, and my dad just stares at the carpet. "Orlando had to watch the shop, and Mason was too upset. He couldn't bear it." He replies, starting to get even more upset.

"Oh. . ." My voice trails off. I can barley get the next sentence out, afraid I'll start crying. "What about you, mom? You haven't said a single word to me since you came in." I say angrily. My own mother has nothing to say to her son before he goes to his death. I should have seen this earlier. "No. Because I actually think District Twelve might finally have a Victor this year. So there's really nothing to say."She says. I'm taken by surprise. One, that she didn't yell. Two, that the thinks I can win? "She's a survivor, that one." She looks up at me and stands. She puts a hand on my shoulder just as the peacekeepers come to collect them. "Good luck." And with that she walks out.

What did she mean? Then it hits me like a pile of bricks. _She means Katniss._ I think. _Not me._ Right as the words play themselves through my thoughts, I know they're true. My father embraces me one last time. "Good luck, son." He says, and walks out, and I'm left alone. _She's a survivor, that one. _She had said. She means she thinks Katniss can come home, but not me. Her own son. She gave her own son the cold shoulder. This just makes me cry. This goes on for about ten minutes before the peacekeepers come to take me to the train station. I wipe the remaining tears from my face as I'm escorted to the car that's going to take us to the station. I shouldn't have cried. The station is cluttered with camera crews and reporters. But there's no use in hiding it, now. The peacekeepers have to push quite a few people out of the way for us to reach the doors of the train. We stand outside of them, so the cameras get good shots of us, but I take it as a last look at my home before I'm sent to be slaughtered. We're finally allowed to enter the train, and as soon as the doors close behind us, the train jerks forward.

The speed of the train nearly knocks me off my feet. I've never been on one before, but these Capitol trains can go up to 250 miles an hour. So when I regain my balance, I'm taken to a room that will be my assigned quarters until we reach the Capitol. A Big space with a bed, dressers full of clean clothes, a bathroom with a shower that has hot water. Not slightly warm water like at home, but HOT water. Effie says we can do what we wan, and wear anything we want, but to be ready for dinner in an hour. So I decide to take a shower. Just like pretty much all of District Twelve, I've never had one before. Until now. It feels so good, that I almost don't notice Effie knocking on my door calling me to dinner. So I step out of the shower and dry myself off. I go over to one of the dressers and pull on a clean T-shirt, pants, and find a pair of shoes in the closet, so I put those on, too. I walk around the train until I find the dining car. Haymitch is just walking out as I walk-in. "Where are you going? Effie says it's time for dinner." I say, but he just scowls at me.

"Well, I've been waiting and nothing has happened. So now I'm going to take a nap." He says gruffly, and staggers out of the room. I take a seat at the table, and sit for about five minutes when Effie and Katniss walk in. "Where's Haymitch?" She asks brightly. "Last I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap."I reply. "Well, it's been an exhausting day." Says Effie. She seems a little happier knowing he won't be here. I can guess why. They take their seats, and the meal is brought out a little at a time. Carrot soup, salad, Lamb chops with mashed potatoes, fruit and cheese, and last a big chocolate cake. Effie says to save room, but I can't as well keep myself from eating. The first time I actually have enough to eat.

So I'm stuffing myself, bite after bite. "At least you two have decent manners." Says Effie, just as I'm finishing the last of my potatoes. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."

I remember that pair. Two kids who were from the Seam who were bone thin. I can understand why they would do that. Manners didn't matter to them. They don't matter much to me, either, but this is just how I've always eaten. But Katniss makes a point by putting down her utensils and finishing her dinner with her hands, which, of course, brings a smile to my face. And it makes Effie purse her lips and try not to go off. Once we finish dinner, I start feeling sick, and I can see my arms go slightly green, so my face must be, also. Katniss looks queasy, as well, so I can only imagine she's fighting to keep it down, too. We walk to another car to watch the recaps from today are reaping. They go by, district by district. There's a tall brown-haired boy from District one, a blonde-hared girl also from one, a short curly-haired boy from District 4, a huge, bulky guys from 11, and a small twelve year old from 11. After they show us, it ends, really, after Effie stops complaining about her wig. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior." She says, and I can't help but laugh. "He was drunk," I tell her. "He's drunk every year." "Every day," Katniss chimes in, and gives a slight smirk, which makes me smile some more.

"Yes." Effie mocks."How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. Haymitch, the one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and death!" As if on cue, Haymitch stumbles into the room.

"I miss supper?" He says, his voice slurred from sleep and alcohol. Then he pukes on the carpet and falls into it. "So laugh away!" Effie exclaims. She makes her way around the mess and leaves the room, leaving us to tend to Haymitch.


End file.
